On a monday morning, we all wake up at 6am so that we can go from dark to light and accept the descent into winter madness. You'll take a shower and put a blade against yer face, get your mammalian traits away. Then it's up and out into the real world.
WAIT.
Can't forget the coffee.
Then to the office, the box. Sit, stare, think, REACT, sit, stand, run, CLEANUP.
vroom vroom. Stuck on a bridge while the last glimmer of a sun fades away into the industrial smog.
A potiron in a land of potatoes.
4 comments:
whoa who wrote that?
I did.
It's what i do best in the morning when i've got real work waiting.
But i like that whoa is like how we talk to our horses when/if we got 'em.
tell me poule. can i sell you a horse?
it's my ode to geraud in england
ha.
woah is what my dad says to my dog katy to make her stop walking and hold still.
i would like a horse, but i would not like to buy a horse.
i'm becoming broke.
i like your poem. ode, i mean.
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